


Stellar

by Amatia_Rescue (beyond_belief)



Category: Actor RPF, The Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Originally Posted Elsewhere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-02-24
Updated: 2004-02-24
Packaged: 2018-05-23 00:29:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6098940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beyond_belief/pseuds/Amatia_Rescue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Science is full of metaphors.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stellar

**Author's Note:**

> (Buyer beware!) This is a repost of a story I wrote 10+ years ago under my old pseud that's only floating around on archive.org now, so I decided the time had come to rescue it.

1.

The students all seem to bump into him as they rush from the classroom. It's not his fault he's shorter than most of them. And younger than half of them. Genius is never "blamed". It just exists.

"Bring your books!" he shouts after them, but it never works. They only take Intro to Astronomy because they've heard it's one of those easy courses that counts as the mandatory science credit. His Advanced group is much better at bringing the text with them to class.

Orlando and Olivia pass him, and Elijah reaches out to put a hand on Orlando's arm. "You came in late, don't you want your test back?" he asks.

"Oh," Orlando replies, scuffing his gym shoes against the floor. Liv snaps her gum and drums her fingernails against her purse. They never bring their books either. Elijah hands Orlando his test and Orlando shoves it into his battered folder. He got a perfect score, rare for this class.

"You don't even want to look -" Elijah starts, but they're already walking away. "What'd you get?" he hears Olivia ask.

"Flunked it," is Orlando's confusing reply.

"Remember your text next time, will you?" Elijah calls after them.

 

2.

Olivia isn't there to snap her gum in impatience the Wednesday he hands the papers back, so he gives Orlando his back last and makes him stay behind with a hand on his shoulder while the rest of the students pour out. "Did you write that all yourself?"

"You think I copied it?" Orlando asks lazily, and chews on his pencil.

"Let me see your notebook."

Orlando opens it. It's empty, each page still smooth and white except for one, which has the date of the next test on it. "I don't take notes," he says.

"I can see that." Elijah stands up. "Name two of Jupiter's moons. _Not_ Europa."

"Carme. Thebe." He sounds bored. "Can I go?"

"No."

"I have track in eight minutes."

"What's the spiral density wave theory?"

"Spiral arms of galaxies are regions of compression that move throught the disc - stars form there when gas clouds smash into the compression waves." Orlando raises an eyebrow. "Why are you asking me this stuff?"

"I was concerned about your paper. You don't seem to pay that much attention in class, so -"

"So you thought I copied it outta some book."

"Honestly, yeah."

Orlando shoves the paper into his folder. "Well, I didn't. Wrote it last night."

"You wrote the whole thing in one night?"

"Yep. Can I go now?"

Elijah sighs. "Yes. But come see me during office hours some time, okay?"

"What, I'm not flunking, am I?"

"Far from it."

 

3.

He sees them twenty feet up, looking into one of the store windows. It was impossible not to run into students on the streets, the town was too small for that. These two, however, are so quirky that he'd half expected them to drive into the city for fun on the weekends.

They turn and walk toward the cafe and he follows, lugging his bag from the bookstore. All the books he'd special ordered had come in at once so now he's hauling twenty pounds of paper back to his apartment.

Liv's wearing what she normally wears to class - jeans, t-shirt, high heels. He wonders for a moment why the hell women torture themselves in those kinds of shoes. Orlando's wearing another track suit, this one black. Elijah doesn't think he's ever seen him in anything but a track suit. He supposes it might make sense if Orlando's got practice every day.

They walk with a good foot between them, not touching. Orlando's hands are in the pockets of his zippered jacket, Liv's clutching a shopping bag in one hand and her purse in the other. They go into the cafe, and he thinks for a second about getting a cup of coffee. Then he decides against it and heads for his apartment.

 

4.

"Mercury, for example, is mainly made up of iron. Due to the high percentage of this material in the core, astronomers theorize that Mercury was hit by a large object in it's early developmental stage, disloging most of the lighter materials making up the planet at the time." He looks at the class. They look bored. Olivia's peering into her compact.

"Please read the section on Mercury in your books for the next class, we will have a quiz -" he ignores the groans - "on that and the information you were supposed to have read for today."

The class begins to file out, the sleepers in the back of the room waking up and shuffling out with the rest. "I really wish they wouldn't snore through class," Elijah mutters to himself, flipping off the overhead projector.

"Professor?" Orlando asks from behind him.

"Yes?"

"Here's that book you borrowed me." He holds out one of the volumes Elijah had ordered from the bookstore. "Thanks."

"Did you find the time to read it?"

"Yeah, I read it Wednesday."

"The whole thing?"

"Uhhuh."

Olivia comes up behind Orlando; she'd finished fixing her makeup. "Ready, honey? It's lunchtime."

"Yeah." Orlando follows her from the classroom.

Elijah looks down at the book in his hands. There's a piece of paper sticking out from the top. He pulls it out. /The hypothesis on page 432 has significant problems. Tell this guy he needs to revise, you probably know him./

He does know the author - one of his old professors at Cal State. His dissertation advisor, actually. Elijah sits down and flips to the indicated page.

 

5.

"I think you were right about Olssen's hypothesis," he says to Orlando on Friday. "I worked out the math, the guestimate weight of Charon throws the whole thing off."

"Told you," Orlando replies, slouching in the chair.

"Can I ask you something?"

"I didn't cheat on the last quiz."

Elijah sighs. "That wasn't what I was going to ask. What I wanted to know was, why are you majoring in communications when you're so good at astronomy?"

"How do you know what I'm majoring in?"

"It's in the student database, Orlando."

Orlando manages to look grouchy.

"You're wasting potential," Elijah continues. "You've aced everything I've thrown at you without a spitwad of effort."

"A spitwad?"

"You know what I mean," he mutters. "Those books I asked you to read were meant for graduate students."

"I ain't no freak," Orlando says. "No science geek."

"You think I'm a freak teaching college at twenty-one?" Elijah asks. "Look, there's nothing wrong with being smart."

Orlando frowns. "I just want to finish my communications degree and get the fuck out of here so I can concentrate on my running. Sitting around reading that Bronte shit in English ain't for me."

"You sat around reading Copernicus."

"Yeah, well. He's cool."

"Are you signing up for Advanced Astronomy next semester?"

"Is it a required course?"

"Not for a communications major."

"Then no. I'm not taking it."

"Don't waste what you've got, Orlando."

"I ain't no freak," Orlando says again, and leaves.

 

6.

He goes to Orlando's track meet the next day to watch him run. Olivia's there as well, and Elijah makes sure to sit on the opposite end of the stands. The runners mill around, warming up. He watches Orlando and tries to look stern. He knows it won't work.

Orlando runs in the second race, and takes first place. Elijah leaves before the medal ceremony.

 

7.

"What about physics?" he asks Orlando on Tuesday afternoon in his office.

"I suck at math."

"I doubt that." He takes the dry-erase marker from the board's tray and writes out a complicated equation. "C is forty-five and X is thirty-one. Solve for A."

"Two hundred and twelve point five," Orlando mutters after a moment's thought.

"You'll do fine in physics. And sign up for Advanced Astro, will you? I need people like you in there."

"Why were you at the track meet on Saturday?"

Elijah's caught off guard. "I went to watch."

"You went to try and glare me into taking Advanced Astro," Orlando replies. "It didn't work. And stop doing it, it's freaky."

"Orlando," Elijah says quietly. "Why are you fighting this? You're good at Astronomy, real good. You're better than some of the people I knew at grad school. Most of them couldn't have done that -" he gestures at the equation on the board - "in their heads."

"It's too late to switch now. I've only got another year, Professor."

"One, don't waste what you've got," Elijah tells him. "Two, call me Elijah, all right?" He holds a sheet of paper out towards Orlando. "And do these problems for me, okay?"

"What's in it for me?"

"I'll buy you a beer."

Orlando glares at him.

 

8.

Orlando does the math problems at the bar in under five minutes. "Here," he says, thrusting the paper at Elijah. "You don't need to check them, they're right."

Elijah looks down at the worksheet. A few things worked out in neat handwriting along the margin, Orlando had done most of it in his head. The problems are all correct. "Want to T.A. for me next semester?" he asks, taking a swig of his beer.

"What?"

"I need a T.A. for Intro next semester. Are you interested?"

"You've got to be kidding me."

He sets the beer down. "Seriously, Orlando."

"No, man, I can't."

"Why not?"

"I ain't no science geek." He's wearing another track suit, of course.

"Why are you so worried about that?" Elijah presses. "I don't get why you think Astronomy's gonna ruin your image."

"I have cross country next semester," Orlando replies.

"Class is at the same time it is this semester. You don't have practice until later. I asked the coach."

Orlando drinks the rest of his beer. "Fine."

"You'll do it?"

"I just said I would, okay?"

Elijah nods. "You want another beer?"

 

9.

He can hear what they're saying from twenty feet away, so it must not be good. The classroom's half-empty, which is normal for a Friday. Half of the students who have made it are hungover. There's still five minutes before class starts, maybe a few more will show.

"What do you mean you can't go out tonight?" he hears Liv hiss.

"I gotta do some extra shit for the Professor," Orlando replies. "I can't flunk this class, you know that, I gotta get him to help me."

"What are you talking about? You passed the last quiz."

Elijah shakes his head and moves out of earshot. Obviously Orlando hasn't told Liv the truth yet. He still doesn't understand what their deal is.

 

10.

Orlando comes over to his apartment after track, ringing the bell just as Elijah's opened his book. He gets up and hits the button. "Come on up."

Orlando's wearing jeans, the first time Elijah's seen him in anything but one of his track suits. "I brought Chinese food," he says, holding up a bag.

"Excellent."

Orlando looks at his bookshelves while Elijah finds paper plates and plastic silverware. "You don't own any Sagan."

"I guess not." He opens one of the boxes. Lo mein. "I read most of it while I was in high school, anyway."

"Which was..."

"When I was twelve."

"I read them when I was thirteen."

Elijah looks up, and they grin at each other. "C'mon, let's eat."

They end up watching Pi, which Orlando immediately labels as the "only smart movie in existence" between bites of garlic chicken.

"So explain to me why you're a communications major," Elijah says.

"I didn't do so well in high school, but this place gave me a track and field scholarship. Career counsellor said communications was the major for the kids who couldn't do other majors."

Elijah had to admit it made sense. "You didn't do well in your science classes?"

"I never went."

"That would do it."

"I have to go to class now or I'll lose my scholarship." Orlando steals the rest of the egg roll from Elijah's fingers.

"Hey, man!"

Orlando grins at him and sticks it in his mouth. "Let's go to Blockbuster," he says, chewing.

Elijah looks at the television. The credits are running. "Okay."

 

11.

Blockbuster is deserted, except for the two salespeople. "All this commercial crap aimed at twelve-year-old girls," Orlando sighs, looking at the list of new releases. "The industry really needs to wake up and realize that their audience includes people with more intelligence than your average toaster."

Elijah stops in front of the row of Adam Sandler movies. "I think they take away your doctorate for watching these," he says, and Orlando laughs.

"When was the last time you watched a stupid movie?"

"I think I was fifteen." Elijah picks up the other Darren Arnfosky film. "This?"

"Saw it. But I'd watch it again."

"You know he made Pi when he was still in film school?"

"Now that's genius," Orlando replies, grinning.

The salesgirl walks up behind them. "We're gonna be closing soon, are you about ready?"

Elijah waves the box at Orlando. "Are we getting this?"

"Yeah." He looks at the girl and smiles. "D'you think you could give us another few minutes, sweetie? We'll be out of your hair in a flash, I promise."

She blushes. "Uhm. Sure, take your time."

"Smooth talker," Elijah coughs behind his hand, but he's grinning at Orlando. He thinks he might be just a little charmed himself.

 

12.

On Monday he goes up to Orlando's seat with the assistantship papers in his hand. "I need you to fill these out," he says, dropping them on top of Orlando's notebook.

Liv picks one up before Orlando can hide them. "What, you're T.A.ing for him next semester?" Before Orlando can say anything, she's talking again. "You said you were flunking!"

"I -"

"Why'd you lie to me about something as stupid as this? Did you think I'd be jealous that you were getting a better grade? Honestly, Orli!" She stands up, her eyes flashing and her purse swinging. "That's it, I'm outta here."

And she leaves before either Orlando or Elijah can say a word.

"I thought you'd told her," Elijah says to Orlando, confused.

"I shoulda told you she didn't know," he replies.

"I still don't understand why you're keeping it a secret."

Orlando shrugs. "I already told you, I don't want people thinking I'm a freak."

"So you _do_ think I'm a freak," Elijah says slowly, and he feels hurt.

"No. But it is weird that I'm older than you." Orlando grins.

"Anybody ever tell you age doesn't matter?"

"Well. You're not a freak," Orlando mutters, and gets up to follow Liv.

 

13.

Orlando leaves the papers on the desk, so Elijah calls him later while he's grading physics assignments. "You didn't fill out the papers."

"Sorry."

"If you really don't want the assistantship, it's all right," he says, but it's not.

"No, I want it. Are you still in your office?"

"Yeah."

"I'll come down and fill them out." Orlando hangs up.

He's finished with the worksheets when Orlando knocks on the ofice door, a six-pack in one hand. "Peace offering?"

"Beer helps." Elijah holds out the papers. "Sign them."

Orlando slumps into one of the chairs and chews the cap on Elijah's last pen without noticing. "Track's over for the season," he says, scribbling his name at the bottom of one of the sheets.

"Yeah, I know." Elijah opens one of the beers. "How's things with Liv? Are you all right?"

"It doesn't matter," Orlando mumbles, taking the pen cap from his mouth. "Sorry."

"'s okay. You know, I never thought I'd heard of anyone losing their partner in favor of astronomy."

"Yeah, well. Must be a first," Orlando says wryly, and stands up.

"You don't have to leave. There's beer."

"Naw, I gotta go." He nudges Elijah with his foot and walks out, for the second time that day.

 

14.

"Your final will be in three weeks," he tells the class Friday morning, and they stare grumpily at him, hungover. He stares back. "Someone tell me I haven't bored you all to death this semester."

No one says a word. It normally gets at least a chuckle out of someone. Olivia, across the room from Orlando now, snaps her gum. Orlando just shrugs at him.

Elijah sighs. "Three weeks. And it's cumulative, so you'll have to study back more than three chapters. There will be review sessions starting next Friday, all right? Tell your friends who didn't bother to show up today!" He raises his voice to be heard over the sound of shuffling papers and backpacks zipping. "And you'll really need to bring your books for that review!"

The clock hits eleven, and they file past him as he hands back the latest assignment. Orlando's last in line, and Elijah pulls him to the side. "What's up with this?" he asks, waving the sheet of paper.

"So I flunked it," Orlando replies, fiddling with the zipper on his track jacket.

"You wrote random answers in the blanks, Orlando, you didn't even bother to put forth any effort. What's up with that?"

Orlando mumbles something about track, and Elijah puts a hand square on the middle of his chest. "Orlando. Track's over. What's going on with you?"

"Doesn't matter," Orlando replies, and shrugs.

"I want to help," Elijah says quietly.

"It doesn't matter," Orlando repeats, and walks away, leaving Elijah feeling confused and helpless, still with the worksheet in his hand.

 

15.

His bell rings that night. He hits the button. "Who is it?"

"Orlando."

Surprised, he says, "Come on up."

Orlando's brought gifts again, this time he's got a paper bag with used copies of Sagan tucked in the crook of one arm and Contact in the opposite hand. He dumps the bag into Elijah's startled hands. "Here."

"Uhm, thanks."

Orlando holds up the movie. "Want to nitpick? Or should I just go?"

"No, no, you've walked away quite enough in the past week." He sets the bag on the kitchen table.

Orlando's looking at the Advanced Astro text on the counter. "You know, I know all of this already," he says.

"You don't have to take it."

"Good."

"I waived you out of it. Sign up for the astrophysics class."

Orlando looks at him for a long moment. "Oh. Thanks, I guess? Did you change my major without asking me, too?"

"No. But I thought about it."

"Who's teaching astrophysics?"

"I am."

"Well, in that case." He grins, and Elijah breathes a sigh of relief.

 

16.

They don't so much watch the movie as point out everything that's wrong with it. "SETI employees don't use hand-helds," Elijah grumbles.

"How do you know?"

"I spent six months at the New Mexico array."

"Really?" Orlando nudges his knee. "Playing Dr. Arroway?"

"More or less. Except I didn't graduate magna cum laude from MIT."

"You, the genius?"

Elijah grins at him. "MIT doesn't do the cum laude thing."

Orlando rolls his eyes. "You're impossible. Dude, I should make you watch Plan 9 From Outer Space. You'd be hard pressed to find a worse scifi flick."

"Ten steps ahead of you," Elijah replies, and finds the video amid the clutter on the coffee table.

Orlando starts to laugh, leaning against him. "Oh, man. I never would have figured."

"Even freak geniuses such as myself like crappy movies."

"Hey, you're the one who said they take away your doctorate for watching shit like this."

They grin stupidly at each other for a minute, then Elijah switches the tapes. "Liv never wanted to watch this," Orlando says quietly.

"Women," Elijah replies, and presses play.

He falls asleep before the opening credits are done, slumped against Orlando.

 

17.

"Wake up," Orlando says, nudging him. On the television screen, the end credits are rolling.

"The hell? I slept through the whole thing?"

"Yup. But we can watch it again if you want, it's Friday, no class tomorrow."

"Thank goodness for that," Elijah mutters.

Orlando hits rewind on the remote. "I read a paper on the Babcock model this weekend."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"What'd you think?" Elijah rubs his eyes.

"Tangled magnetic fields. Not the most interesting theory in astronomy."

"I always thought it was pretty cool."

Orlando shoves him lightly. "You're a dweeb, Lij."

"Yet who read a paper on the Babcock model?"

"It was one you wrote," Orlando replies, laughing, and Elijah groans. Orlando squeezes his shoulder and doesn't drop his hand. "Movie time!" he exclaims when the VCR clicks.

"Is this what college students do on the weekends?" Elijah asks.

"It's what I do on weekends, when there's no track meets."

"And you call me a dweeb."

"_You_ know what kind of radios the SETI freaks use," Orlando says firmly, fast forwarding through the previews.

"Because I was _working_ while you were skipping your science classes in high school."

"Do you have to keep reminding me how stupid I was?" Orlando snaps, dropping his hand from where it had been idling on Elijah's back. "I got a telescope when I was six. It was all I cared about until I turned twelve, when my father forced me to sign up for sports. Stars weren't manly, he told me. Be a man, Orlando, he told me. You see where it got me. Fucking communications major a year from graduation, when all I really wanted was to do what you do."

Elijah's shocked at the outburst. "You can still do it," he murmurs.

"My scholarship is a four-year one, it ends next May."

"There's science scholarships," Elijah presses, " and I'll write you recommendations, Orlando. You don't have to graduate feeling like you should have done something else with your life."

"It's too late."

Elijah grips his arm. "It's not."

Orlando looks away, towards the television. "I wish I'd known you when I was sixteen."

"I'm here now. Trust me, you can make something out of this. How many times have I told you that you can do things most grad students can't? You'll fly through grad school. Astronomy needs people like you."

Orlando snorts. "Losers like me."

"You're _not_ a loser. Even if you think you are, because of the choices you made, you can change. You can make different choices." He softens his voice. "You're no loser, Orli. You're as smart as I am."

"So I'm a freak."

"What the hell is so wrong with being smart?" Elijah squeezes his arm. "Why are you afraid of it?"

"I'm not afraid of anything."

"You are. You hang out with me, you come over just so we can discuss quantum mechanics -"

"You're my friend."

"- you make fun of fucking Contact with me, but you pretend that's some normal pastime." Elijah shakes his head. "Stop making excuses and live your dream. Stop caring what other people think."

"I care what you think."

"Then do this for yourself," Elijah murmurs.

"You really think I'm that good?" Orlando asks, tugging at the zipper on his track suit with the hand not digging into Elijah's back.

"Yes. And ouch."

"Sorry." Orlando grins. His hand relaxes but doesn't move.

Elijah leans against him again. "We've missed half the movie," he announces.

"Do you really care?"

"Not really."

Orlando's hand slides upward. "Why on Earth did they hire someone who doesn't even look remotely like Bela Lugosi to replace him?"

"One of the world's greatest mysteries, for sure," Elijah replies, and looks at his watch. "Christ, it's four in the morning. I'm sure there's some sort of law against college professors being up so late." Orlando's hand is tangled in his hair. "Orli, what... what are you doing?"

"I think the fact that I'm older than you negates the professor part," Orlando murmurs, and leans forward to kiss him.

It's warm and a little sticky and Orlando tastes like Gatorade and oranges. His tongue darts into Elijah's mouth. Pretzles, too. Salt. Elijah cups his chin. "Orlando -"

"I'm taller, too," Orlando says, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Height is inconsenquential," Elijah says firmly, and pulls him into another kiss. Orlando's arms slide around him. "Are... are you sure this is a good idea? I mean, you and Liv -"

"Why do you think I let her break it off?"

"Oh. _Oh_." Breathing has gotten a little difficult.

Orlando chuckles. "You won't start talking about quasars while we have sex, will you?" he breathes, right into Elijah's ear.

Elijah shivers. "I'll trust you to keep me away from the stellar references," he says, and finds Orlando's mouth again.


End file.
